The Maker (Englandx Reader)
by Silver 1625
Summary: What if the world revolves only over 2 people? What if this horrible cycle never ends? What if? What if? Too many rhetorical questions. Either you live or she lives. Oh, and this cycle will NEVER end. Enjoy...


**Yes, I lied about the whole 'I CONQUERED MY WRITERS BLOCK' stuff. I watched something in YouTube titled 'The Maker' and this is truly awesome so I turned it to Hetalia. This is also my first attempted reader insert. Devoted for my Denmark-loving-friend Fio who kept rattling about not updating anything in my current state. **

**I do not own Hetalia unless… I don't know… I just don't. Ask God why.**

* * *

Arthur stood with a still expression in a dark study, wondering what to do with the moth-eaten and leather-bound book in his hands. He blinked, twice, thrice. Nothing happened.

Then why was he created in the first place?

As suddenly as it ends, the once done sandglass on the desk turned, signaling that his time starts now. Again Arthur blinked.

Ah, so this is what he was supposed to do. I wonder, who made the plot so twisted?

He put the book down on the desk and began turning the pages. Skipping on some intros, he reads: "The most unlucky of things shall be put to its worth." His voice came out ragged and worn. But this was his least concern.

Okay… time to start working…

He reached for the clay underneath the table and stretched it on the smooth surface. "Focus Arthur, focus…" With such seriousness drew on his face he shaped the clay perfectly with only relying on his memory alone. When he was finished with the feminine feats he moved on to the next step explained in the book.

He then used the clay again to make the delicate features. Trying as hard as he can with the small details. Arthur put a pair of gleaming (e/c) diamonds behind the eyelids. After he was finished with this particular work he paused for a few seconds, admiring his work. He wondered the look in her shining (e/c) orbs.

Strands of silky (h/c) strings. Arthur carefully crafted it the crown of her head. It was too long and unruly so he hadit cut (h/l), just like he remembered.

"Whats missing... Ah! The tone..." the so-called gentleman went for a drawer and whisked out a brush and a palatte of paint. With the tip of his brush he painted the clay with (s/c) colour, with with the fingers and lips a light coral colour.

The Brit scratched his hair for a minute and looked at the sandglass. He only have half remaining time left to work on this. Better hurry.

"Lets see..." he mumbled while he worked. "So we will need..." he pulled out a (f/c) cloth with small flower pattern and, using a suprisingly sharp stone, smoothly cut it into large pieces. Continuing his work by pulling a large needle and a (f/c) thread, he had the cloth sewn into a simple yet stunningly dark dress. Arthur wrapped the clay with it.

* * *

She is done. (y/n).

Arthur beamed proudly at the lifeless limp doll sitting on a chair in front of him. He held the doll,(y/n), facing him. There is just one problem left to solve, she is not yet alive. She wouldn't open her beautiful eyes.

"Love, please tell me what you want to do? We'll be together forever. (y/n), please open your eyes and look at me..." the Brit begged, hoping against hope that she can hear his simple plea.

But she didn't. Her head rolled to a side, still a beautiful dead doll.

He sighed, "Fancy reading some books with me, perhaps?" he carried her bridal style to an equally dark library somehow still inside the building. They (or rather, he) read a book about The Little Red Riding Hood. She still didn't open her eyes. Multiple times he tried to coax her interest by asking questions and such, none of it worked. But this didn't make him lose hope either.

As gentlemanly as hecould he took her to the places that gloomy building had to offer. Such as the library, the classroom, to observatory, the run-down park, all the way back to the dark study. After putting her back on the chair he ran his fingers through his hair. Glancing at the sandglass once more, he only have 30 minutes approx. He must wake her quick.

Arthur opened the book again in a frustrated manner. There must be something! "Please, there must be!" he flipped the pages, nearly tearing it apart in his search.

As he reached the last page, it was filled with messy writing he didn't recognize. It seems to be a peculiar chant of somekind. He read it eagerly, hoping that what he was doing is right.

"Santo Rita Mita Meada Ringo Jonah Tito Marlon, Jack La Toya Janet Michael Dumbledora The Explorer, Santo Rita Mita Meada Ringo Jonah Tito Marlon, Jack La Toya Janet Michael Dumbledora The Explorer. I've summoned you from the depths of Hell, show yourself!"

He turned from the book, startled that the girl was already facing him with curious (e/c) eyes. She was as lovely as he remembered her.

(y/n) peeked at him, wondering why did he stopped his 'cute' pep talk. "So… rry…" she said gently with her newly formed throat. "No no, it's okay love." Arthur was so happy he could die right there and then. She is still new to the world and she will have her part in this dark plot either of them started.

They both glanced at the sandglass, and it dawned to Arthur about what he was made to do. He embraced her lovingly and whispered "My name is Arthur and yours is (y/n). Thank you for waking up…"

When he pulled away from her, he reached for the book on the desk and gave it to her. "Take this, you'll need it more than me." he smiled sadly at her while she reached her arms and took it.

The moment she took it from him the sandglass stood empty, signaling that Arthur's time was up, just like (y/n)'s time was once. As a purple magic wave hit him, he hoped in his heart "(y/n), please go away from this place. Don't fall in love with me like I did to you. If you manage to escape from this bloody building faster than the sandglass, rather than re-making me, then you could end this horrible fate." Sadly he was too late to tell her his last wish.

The wave that perished Arthur into thin air also tidied up the ingredients Arthur had used to make her very existence. Once its task was done it flew back to the sandglass, leaving (y/n) alone and confused.

* * *

(y/n) stood with a still expression in a dark study, wondering what to do with the moth-eaten and leather-bound book in her hands. She blinked, twice, thrice. Nothing happened.

Then why was she created in the first place?

As suddenly as it ends, the once done sandglass on the desk turned, signaling that her time starts now. Again (y/n) blinked.

Ah, so this is what she was supposed to do. I wonder, who made the plot so twisted?


End file.
